


What A Racket

by meaninglessblah



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Alternate universe - Mafia, Crime Lord Dick Grayson, M/M, Officer Jason Todd, Organized Crime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-05-31
Packaged: 2020-04-05 04:01:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19040734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meaninglessblah/pseuds/meaninglessblah
Summary: Jason's a cop determined to get inside Nightwing's crew. He soon discovers its less about easing himself into the role and more about a controlled fall.--Essentially an inverted Gotham Mafia AU, where the Batfam are the criminals and the criminals are the Good Guys.





	What A Racket

No one had gotten within twenty blocks of Nightwing.

The small-time crime lord was nigh untouchable, contorting his way out of every conviction with flair and charisma. And a considerable payout to whichever sitting judge happened to have his case thrown across their desk.

You could spend weeks rotating through his staff, and never get close enough to even glimpse the man. Which was a feat in and of itself, considering how many alleys and back-door deals in Bludhaven bore signs of his involvement.

The man had a flair for the dramatic that put most of Arkham’s residents to shame. His breeding ground was Bludhaven, but he hailed from the hallows of Gotham, where he’d sown the seeds of his narcotics trade under the tutelage of the great Bat.

But Gotham was the Bat’s roost, and in the last nine months, Nightwing had taken Bludhaven by storm. Like a cuckoo misplaced in an unsuspecting nest, by the time the local scum had caught wind of his antics, Nightwing had already established himself as the be all and end all of Bludhaven’s criminal elite. And from there, he had expanded his reach across the dim city.

The cops hadn’t stood a damn chance. Jason wondered sometimes if some of them had really put up a decent fight. They’d certainly found a comfy spot nestled into Nightwing’s pocket.

It only cemented Nightwing’s reputation as untouchable – by the crime lords, by the cops, and by most of the city. The closest any cop had gotten to him was the infamous lieutenant Wilson. The man had staged a stakeout at the crime lord’s apartment, put a single sniper bullet in Nightwing from one thousand feet off. It had earned him suspension, and then a promotion. The city had breathed in the brief respite before Nightwing had reclaimed Bludhaven with a vengeance.

Wilson held the record for closest person to get near the untouchable Nightwing’s airspace at a commendable twenty-one blocks.

Jason got within three before one of Nightwing’s goons put him down.

It had been a brief scuffle, and Jason had folded quickly under the pressure. He wasn’t here to start a fight; he was here to test a boundary, and he’d run smack into a brick wall. He hadn’t even been subtle about it. He’d walked straight into Bludhaven’s casino district, uniform and all, and kept walking until someone had knocked him on his ass. Wilson would have been proud.

He’d stuck out in the Spine like a sore thumb, all bright blues and pressed slacks. They must have thought it was a joke; maybe that’s why they’d let him get close enough to spot the glaring neon lights of Haly’s, Nightwing’s preferred watering hole.

They’d roughed him up for his efforts, bundled him into a car and dumped him at the docks far from where he could make any more stupid decisions. Jason had tried again for three consecutive nights after his first attempt.

He supposed that made him a masochist, or an insane fool. He liked to call it perseverance, or stubbornness in a pinch. It’d gotten him plenty far in his short life. He didn’t make his way from the slums of Gotham into the ranks of Bludhaven’s finest by taking no for an answer. It had worked then, so Jason had done the math and figured it would work now.

It took a week, and three fractured ribs, but who ever said perseverance was cheap.

He’d gotten an audience with Nightwing. _The_ Nightwing. Haly’s lights had never looked so victorious, and they cast his face in a stark blue smirk. It made his uniform look saturated. It made Jason look vicious.

The muscle escorting him barred him at the entrance, shoving him to a sharp halt. Jason’s standard issue boots screeched across the pavement when he was manhandled against the nearest brickwall. He tasted flaking mortar as the muscle frisked him, thoroughly. Jason waited patiently for the man to satisfy himself. He wasn’t carrying; he’d surrendered his gun when they’d instructed him to get into the sleek black car. He’d figured that if they were going to kill him in the confined quarters of a sedan, he probably wasn’t going to be served by his gun anyway.

His escort yanked him off the wall and through the gaping doorway of Haly’s, the neon blue fading behind him. The interior decoration was as gaudy as the exterior, the walls lined in gold, red and green curtains that gave the club the aura of a tent. It seemed to wax and wane as Jason was marched past the long wooden bar, unable or unwilling to hold a static, grounded form. He supposed it suited Nightwing’s flitting personality.

They beelined towards a spiralling wood-and-rope staircase to the second storey mezzanine, and Jason had barely gotten a sweeping glance of the sprawled lounges before he was shoved up another flight of stairs.

This set opened onto the third balcony of Haly’s – the acrobat’s perch – and _this_ looked more to Nightwing’s personal taste in interior decorating.

The railing had been removed in blatant disregard for council bylaws, and the open drop down fifteen feet gave the level a sense of weightlessness. The highest branch perhaps, or the trapezist’s platform. Jason reeled back despite the reprimanding hand between his shoulder blades.

This was definitely Nightwing’s nest, and Jason felt a smug curl of satisfaction climb up his spine as he was shoved into a deep leather armchair and ordered to wait. The minutes crawled by, and Jason could feel the hairs rising on his neck, his back to the sheer drop. He had the niggling concern that someone would drag him back and throw him off, just to prove a point.

He tried to calm himself with the knowledge that no cop had ever gotten this far, so fate must be pulling some strings somewhere to get him here tonight.

Nightwing arrived with all the drama that always seemed to surround the man, beckoned in by his presence, as if it seeped from his very being. He sauntered over from the staircase, picking his way across the floorboards with the grace and ease of a practised dancer, and if Jason wasn’t so preoccupied with swallowing past the lump in his throat he might have taken the opportunity to admire the man’s slim calves.

Nightwing was wearing a tux, because of course he was wearing a tux. He’d accented it with a blue scarf that floated around his shoulders like a set of wings, and the whole get-up was tied together by his beaming, brilliant smile.

“I’ve heard good things, Officer-?”

“Todd,” Jason supplied, surprised at how even his response was. “If you’re asking, you mustn’t have heard much.”

“As a matter of fact,” Nightwing rejoined, his tone light and lilting, teasing, “I’ve heard nearly nothing about a particular Officer Todd. You’re a man with a muddied history.”

Jason tried to keep his chin tilted up, hoping the bravado would convince the man. “I like to keep my business to myself.”

“Then I suppose you won’t be taking our conversation to your superiors,” Nightwing purred, and gestured vaguely to his waist. More specifically, his right-side ribs, where Jason knew he’d find a seared gunshot wound beneath the layers of fine wool and cotton. “I’d hate for them to come snooping. I’ve already got one souvenir.”

“They don’t know I’m here.”

“I figured.” The words were dry and dark, lined with both warning and amusement. Jason understood completely; coming here put him at considerable risk. A crime lord couldn’t be seen conversing with a cop, let alone a cop in uniform, without dropping a limp body off at the docks afterwards. Or, more accurately, off the docks.

“You want to know why I’m here.”

“Considering your boys are after my skin, and none-too-pleased with my repertoire, I’d thought you and I could have a soiree of sorts. Drink?”

Jason blinked, recovering. “Whiskey.”

Nightwing waved an absent hand at the nearest escort, who shuffled off to the staircase, no doubt headed for the bar. The crime lord flopped into the armchair opposite Jason with a lengthened sigh, beaming. He spread his arms across the back rests, his gaze sweeping the young cop thoroughly. “So, are you going to proposition me?”

“In the biblical sense?” Jason joked, because he joked when he was nervous, and the crime lord was unnerving.

Nightwing’s smile only grew under the tight domino mask, pearly whites gleaming and sharp. “If you’d like.”

Jason pointedly ignored that. “What do you want from me?”

The man laughed, more a barked chuckle than real humour. “That’s not usually how negotiations go. You offer me something, and then I raise.”

Jason shrugged. “I’m a collaborator. I’m happy for us both to benefit from this.”

“For you to benefit, I’d need to know how many pounds of flesh I’m indebted by.”

“I won’t be the one benefiting,” Jason replied cryptically.

Nightwing hummed. “You’re obviously not here to take me in, and I’m failing to see what you can offer me that I can’t get one of the cops on my payroll to procure for me.”

“I want a job then.”

“You got a resume, handsome?”

Jason tapped the bronze badge resting in the crook of his diaphragm, the metal chain biting into his hairline. “Right here.”

“I have cops. Why do I need you?”

“You don’t need me; but I don’t need you either.”

“Then this would be a transaction of ease, I take it?”

“We both get to fulfil our wishlists early this year.”

“And what would I wish from you?”

Jason batted his piercing baby blues. “Anything you can imagine, baby.”

Nightwing laughed, genuinely this time, the sound pealing and bright. Jason felt the sound wash over him, galvanising him. “You’re cute, I like that.”

“Thought you might.”

“Ah, don’t get smart now. Cocky suits you, little wing, but hearing you run your mouth can tire quickly. And you have done nothing but run your mouth so far.”

“I’m sure you can find other uses for me and my mouth.”

“I’m sure I can. But you haven’t told me what you want from this arrangement.”

“I told you, a job.”

“No you don’t,” Nightwing murmured, and Jason felt fear clench in his gut. It was purely instinctual, a warning that a predator was in range. Nightwing’s blue eyes pierced him, the scrutiny almost physically painful. “You like being a cop, more than most. You don’t want to be here any more than I want you to be here, but you are. And so am I. So what do you expect from me, Mr Todd? What do you stand to gain out of a job with me?”

Jason mulled it over carefully. “Better pay, firstly. I make just over minimum salary, so I want you to double that. I want a company car too. Or a bike, preferably a bike.” When Nightwing didn’t move, he added, “You should be taking notes.”

“So you want me to pay you to what, be another cop on my books? And you expect me to pay you double for essentially nothing new?”

Jason shrugged. “I’ll quit the force then.”

Nightwing laughed again, the sound high-strung. Jason thought he heard genuine surprise there this time around. “And what use is an ex-cop to me?”

“I’ll be your bodyguard, then.”

“My bodyguard. And you think I need protection?”

“After Wilson, yeah.”

Nightwing watched him for a long minute, trying to discern his intentions. Jason kept his expression neutral, impassive. “Anyone would think that was a threat, Mr Todd.”

“You’re not anyone.”

A low hum. “So you want to be my bodyguard; why?”

“I stand to gain a lot by being within arm’s reach of you at all times. You’d be protecting me just as much as I’m protecting you.”

“And you need protection? From who?”

“Persistent parties.”

Nightwing sucked his teeth and leaned forward, crooking his cuff-linked sleeves over his thighs. “Cryptic conversations were never my forte. And as cute as you are, it wears off when you start trying to play me for a fool, little wing. So answer me honestly, and I’ll do the honourable thing and meet you halfway.”

Jason looked him over once, gaze sliding over those icy blues. “I want my boss dead.”

Nightwing blinked, but otherwise his surprise was masked. “Wilson?”

Jason was already shaking his head. “Napier.”

“Ah, the commissioner,” Nightwing purred, tilting his chin up in contemplation. “I can see why that might be a feat.”

“So what can I offer you?” Jason asked, cutting to the bones of their negotiation. “What do you want in return?”

Nightwing smirked and crooked his head, surveying him. “I’ll take you on as my bodyguard,” he said finally, catching Jason by surprise. He didn’t have time to question that before Nightwing was on his feet again, smoothing down his tuxedo. “You start Monday. Quit your day job; you’ll work solely for me now.”

Nightwing pauses, halfway to the staircase as Jason arched around in his seat to keep track of him. A private smile danced across his features before he added, “My boys will have to make a convincing show of it though. You understand why I can’t just have a uniformed cop _walk_ out of my establishment, yes?”

Jason’s jaw tightened, but he’d expected as much. “Yes, sir.”

A spark of interest lighted Nightwing’s eyes, before he chuckled to himself. “See you next week, little wing. Don’t disappoint. And enjoy the whiskey; it’s on the house.”

**Author's Note:**

> If I work out where the inspiration for this came from, it may get a second wind. But for now it's dead in the water. I'll let you know if I'm planning further work on it.   
> Hope you enjoy anyway!


End file.
